


Psychosis Room

by DawnedOnMe33



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Canon Compliant, F/M, Half-Wendigo Josh Washington, Hurt/Comfort, Josh Lives, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Native American/First Nations Legends & Lore, Post-Canon, Rituals, Wendigo Josh Washington
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnedOnMe33/pseuds/DawnedOnMe33
Summary: “Let's meet again soon. Chris. Sam.”Josh Washington didn't die on Blackwood Mountain.He managed to survive by consuming the flesh of the stranger. But, as the spirit of the Makkapitew crept into Josh's body, a strange thing happened. He was able to trap the evil soul in Dr. Hill's office within his head.  For the past five years, Josh wandered as a creature not quite human, but not quite Wendigo either. And, now, he has a few new plans ready for his friends.Chris Hartley hasn't been able to rest easy for five years. His past follows him everywhere and, to make matters worse, nobody seems to believe his account of what happened on Blackwood Mountain. Sam, Mike, and Jess are the only people left he feels like he can truly talk to. However, after he and Sam both receive calls from the Washington Lodge, he knows that the struggle against the evils of the Wendigos are not yet over.(TAGS AND WARNINGS WILL BE UPDATED AS THEY COME UP)
Relationships: Chris Hartley & Josh Washington, Mike Munroe/Jessica Riley, Sam Giddings & Chris Hartley & Josh Washington, Sam Giddings/Chris Hartley, Sam Giddings/Josh Washington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. The Butterfly's Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Sucks to be me, suddenly into a 5-year-old game. Ha! But to be honest, anything that gets me writing is good even if there probably isn't much interest in it anymore. It would be so cool if Supermassive released more content for Until Dawn. But I get a direct sequel is hard given the various endings.
> 
> Anyway, if you know me from my 3H fanfic, then don't worry. I'm still working on that. Endings are just difficult for me. It's been a while, but it hasn't been cancelled. 
> 
> The final thing I'll say on this Until Dawn fanfic is please be prepared for scenes dealing with mental illness and Native lore. In the years since Until Dawn's release, I feel like both of those topics have become more and more sensitive. However, these are both central parts to the story. Please be aware that many scenes I have planned for this fic will heavily describe mental health and fake Native American rituals (think Stephen King type stuff). If that is not your cup of tea, you should not read. Thank you!

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Josh turned to face his psychiatrist Dr. Hill, or rather the version of him that existed in this twisted place. He smiled as he watched Hill frown.

“I know it’s not wuh-what you expected, Doc. Buh-But this isn’t a bad thing.”

Ever since his last trip to Mount Washington five years ago, Josh had developed a stutter. It was the result of a burdened body and soul, one that struggled to keep another spirit at bay. 

“You were supposed to cleanse yourself of that thing, Joshua. I was here to help you. People were always here to help you. And this is how you repay us.”

With a smirk, Josh paced across the floor. He did this often and was surprised he hadn’t worn a track in the wood. But, then again, this office wasn’t typical. It was a special place inside a gloomy cavity within Josh’s mind. The room often shifted, melding into and swimming with his nightmares. The pen holder on the doctor’s desk would sometimes fill with syringes. Or a broken doll would appear on the leather couch. But none of that bothered Josh anymore. He’d beaten the greatest threat. 

Laughing, Josh reached down and grabbed a chain, pulling it back with all his might. The creature on the other end squealed like a hog and tried to dig its claws between the floorboards. Josh leaned forward and kicked the repulsive thing in the skull. 

“I duh-did it,” he said. “It’s muh-mine now. I tell _it_ what to do now.”

Dr. Hill’s expression fell further. He stared at the chained up creature.

A Wendigo. 

And this was not just any Wendigo. This one was called the Makkapitew. Its particularly long teeth and boundless rage had earned it that distinction. It was the strongest of all Wendigos. And now it was trapped in this psychological office.

The monster’s skin was lumpy and thinly stretched over its long, bony frame. Despite that, it was as strong as iron, able to weather bullets. The Makkapitew’s large, milk-white eyes lacked all feeling and rationale, all emotion but hatred. And hunger. It tried to charge Josh, though he’d muzzled its fanged mouth. Again, he kicked the ancient evil to the floor. 

“Joshua. Please. Listen to me. Really listen.”

With a raised eyebrow, Josh glanced at Dr. Hill.

Swallowing, the psychiatrist continued: “Without me, here in your head, you would have succumbed to this. You already made the Wendigo’s pact, did you not?”

Josh mumbled some word he wasn’t even sure off: a generic sound of annoyance. He remembered the night he’d tasted human flesh for the first time. It had belonged to a stranger, some man he’d found decapitated in the mines. The man’s fat and blood had filled Josh with a stomach-flipping sensation, and the evil had ebbed into his body. If not for Dr. Hill…

“Wuh-What’s your point?” muttered Josh. 

“This is a golden opportunity. You can destroy a Wendigo. Truly destroy one. When your friends burned the manor, they killed the beasts’ hosts but not the spirits. Yet, you can. Your psychological make-up is different. You may be the sole human who can. Will you do it? Will you atone?”

The Wendigo hissed through its muzzle and tried to bolt towards Dr. Hill’s window, to escape into the silver moon-stream. But Josh yanked the chain back once more. He faced Dr. Hill and chuckled, his bottom eyelid bouncing up just once.

“I know wuh-what you’re telling me to do… Yuh-you want me to do it again and again. And again and again! Invite these things in! Thuh-Then I can bash them, bash them all up!”

Now he was roaring with laughter.

“BASH. BASH. BASH.”

Josh shook his head, trying to breathe. 

“Thuh-That might be fun. I hate them. I hate them all. Buh-but… This thing can’t control me now. And I can control it.”

“I do not like your train of thought, Joshua. Would you choose to be selfish again?”

“No! That’s thuh-the thing!” Josh stomped on the wendigo’s head, knocking it out. In real life, he knew that never would have worked. But here… with the evil spirit trapped in this corner of his own head, the deepest corner, anything was possible. 

Now, Josh was stronger, stronger than he’d felt in more than half a decade. He possessed the abilities of the Makkapitew, so nothing could touch him. Not the wolves roaming the forest. Not the other wendigos. Not even humans with their weapons. As the strongest being on the whole mountain, Josh knew that he was finally safe. He should be happy.

But he wasn’t. He felt worse than ever.

After Josh’s sisters had fallen from the cliff on Mount Washington, his doctors had prescribed him antidepressants. But Josh wasn’t so sure that what he felt was mere depression. He felt like someone had stuck several jumper cables in his brain and fried it. Then the world fell into a semi-permanent haze. And, like he was stuck in a dream, Josh just needed someone to keep pinching him. To validate him. He wanted it from his friends, from his parents, from strangers online. Anyone. He needed people to see him and affirm that he was as much a part of the world as they were. Because, most days, he felt like a ghost drifting through everything around him. More than once, Josh had grown so agonizingly lonely that he was willing to do anything to fight back— even if it meant heading for the top level of a parking garage and just falling…

But they always seemed to arrive at the perfect times: 

Chris. And Sam. 

All of Josh’s friends checked in with him from time to time. They texted him or invited him to get-togethers. Sam was different. She would visit and just sit beside him and ask him about his day. She always remembered the little details of what he said and, whenever she brought them up, he felt real again. Her green eyes _saw_ him. Chris had a similar effect. He often stopped by with a new video game and they’d just chat and play together. Josh drank in all the little things: the way Chris’s glasses slipped a little when he laughed, the corny jokes he told, how he always requested extra garlic sauce for Josh when he ordered them pizza. Chris’s presence provided simple normalcy. Neither Sam or Chris had cured the turbulence in Josh’s skull, but they’d eased the loneliness and disassociation. Just a little. And that “little” meant so much to Josh. 

But then things… started to shift. Matt, Jess, and Ashley began to look towards college. None of them planned on going to the university that Mike, Emily, Chris, and Sam attended. In fact, Ashley wanted to go abroad, to a fancy liberal arts school.

_“Chris, you’ve got to ask her out!” Josh said one evening as they played a fighting game together. “She’s talking about going to London.” Sitting on the couch’s backrest behind them, Sam took a swig of cherry coke._

_“I’m… just not ready yet, okay?” Chris said as Josh knocked his HP to zero. “Shit.” He sighed and put the controller down. “I’m not going to ask until I’m positive she’ll say yes. Any other reaction would just be a disaster.”_

_“Everyone but you is positive she’ll say yes.” Sam chugged the rest of her soda and bopped Chris on the head with the empty bottle. “Come on, if you wait too long, someone else’ll nab her.”_

_“Who?!”_

_“Well, at the rate you’re going, Mike would not surprise me. He could break up with Jess and get cozy with Ash and you would still be dragging your feet.”_

_“Ah, come on.”_

_Sam shrugged. “He’s a charmer. Even I think so sometimes.”_

_“You too? Seriously?’ Josh scowled. “Geez, it’s so fucking stupid. There was Emily and Jess and… Hannah.”_

_Chris and Sam shared a glance and the mention of Hannah._

_“Okay. How about a subject change?” Chris reached forward and took a glass of Jack Daniels from the table. He and Josh normally didn’t drink together anymore. They both saw their underage, blackout drinking as a contributing factor to the twin’s deaths. If they’d just been wiser… If they’d just been awake the night Hannah and Beth went missing…_

_But, this time, Josh had insisted. He’d known beforehand what kinds of uncomfortable topics he’d bring up._

_“I…” Josh leaned back gently against Sam’s shins. “Listen, I just… I want to know that everyone will stay in touch.”_

_With a nod, Chris said, “Don’t worry. Ash and I already made a game plan for if she moves. We figured out the time difference and classes and everything and we’ll video chat once a week.”_

_“See?” Sam rested her chin on the top of Josh’s head. “It’s nothing.”_

_“And Matt and Jess?”_

_“I’m sure we’ll stay in touch,” Sam told him. “If not, that’s just how it goes, isn’t it? I’m sure you’re not friends with all your grade school pals now, and life goes on.”_

_“I was just friends with Chris in grade school,” said Josh, speaking into his collar._

_“Ah…” Sam seemed at a loss._

_That conversation had impacted Josh. When he was happiest, it wormed itself back into his brain, between the jumper cables. More than ever, he felt like a phantom. And his anxiety heightened as February 2nd approached. Josh began to hallucinate._

_“You lose track of everything!”_

_He swore he saw Hannah yelling at him as he walked home from the convenience store one day. With incensed eyes magnified by her glasses, she glared at him. “You couldn’t keep an eye on your little sisters and now you can’t keep track of everyone else. They’ll all melt away, Josh!”_

_Suddenly, she had a wicked smile on her lips. She reached forward and patted his face._

_“And you know,” she whispered. “Once Jess and Matt and Mike and Emily and Ashley all melt away… Chris and Sam will see things clearly. They won’t understand what they’re doing, still pulling you along. Then they’ll vanish.”_

_“Okay, And what the hell am I supposed to do about it?!”_

_Hannah snarled in a way Josh had never seen from her before. When her lips curled, she revealed pointed teeth._

_“Make them love each other! And you! They didn’t love me or Beth. But it’s not too late for you. Show them!”_

And it had been that one vision that kick-started it all. Josh began to feel ill all of the time and his medications only made it worse, until he was vomiting every other day. So, he stopped taking his pills. After that, he really plunged. Not even Chris and Sam could cheer him up.

_Love me. And… I need you to love each other so much that…_

Joshua’s plan had been to cause trauma. After all, his own trauma had made him care about Chris and Sam more than ever so why couldn’t it work the opposite way? If they all just drank from the same cup… It would be okay. Chris and Ashley would finally get together and they’d all stay in town together. 

If he could only make them all feel the right things, everything would fix itself. 

But nothing had turned out that way. 

He’d hurt Chris and Sam. He didn’t even know if they’d survived. 

Now, Josh was lonelier than ever. 

“I agree with you, Doc. They tried to save me, to be my fuh-friends. And I made a big oopsie. It can be all different. I can be better now.” He pat his hands together once. “Tell me. Is anyone still alive? Five years ago. I was so confused then but… maybe you remember.”

Dr. Hill pursed his lips. For a moment, he seemed unwilling to speak. Finally, he said,

“Think clearly. You found Ashley’s body in the mines. You saw Emily’s in the ruins of the lodge. You ran when the authorities came back to retrieve it. Matt also perished. You saw them find his body. But I cannot tell you what happened. I know as much as you do.”

Josh swallowed. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping the images of Matt, Emily, and Ashley’s corpses wouldn’t come flooding back. That would be too much for him to take. Truly, he wanted anyone to die. 

“And Chris? Sam?” Josh blinked up. “They’re okay?”

“They were likely picked up by the helicopters you heard.”

“Then it will be all okay. This tuh-time.”

“Joshua… Haven’t you hurt them enough?”

“I TOLD YOU.” Joshua approached the desk and swept a stack of coffee-stained papers onto the dusty rug. “It. will. Be. Okay. You were right when you told me I was bad for what I did. You were right, okay?! Sam was always there for me. And Chris. They were there, and now it’s dark. I muh-made them leave.” Josh’s face fell low. His voice sounded unpleasant— the deep tenor of a man with the pouty cadence of a child. He sniffed and nodded. “Buh-But now it will be okay.”

“It will be. If you destroy the curse.”

“No. I _control_ now. I _control_. And I have an idea. I finally know what to do.”

He knelt by the Makkapitew. Five years ago, he’d first felt his evil. The creature’s voice had filled his brain and erased his thoughts.

 _Eat_ , it had snarled over everything. _Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat until the end of days. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat._

Now it could say nothing. It was still inside Josh. But it had fallen silent. A faulty curse.

Josh nodded at Dr. Hill. The doctor’s face wrinkled with indignation.

“No! Joshua, don’t you dar—”

The dream ended. 

A drop of water fell off of a stalactite and echoed through the cavern. Josh twitched when another droplet shattered against his stubbly cheek. He sat up and smiled. In front of him a pool of water reflected his face: A horrible face marred by scars and a monstrous mouth of fangs. One eye was bigger than the other and milk white.

He was wendigo. He was man. He was some strange, hybrid thing. 

Josh splashed the water, breaking his natural mirror.

“Let's meet again soon. Chris. Sam.”

+++++

For the past five years, Chris Hartley had had to deal with being one of the “Mount Washington Survivors.” A stolen identity, it felt like. No more Chris Hartley, app designer. No more Chris Hartley, funny-guy. No more Chris Hartley, nerd extraordinaire. 

The whole world had chosen his permanent label: a broken survivor. 

He knew that the media didn’t believe him, Sam, or Mike. And they certainly didn’t believe Jess. She really was gone. So far gone that she… was like an eggshell. Jessica Riley was fragile, everlastingly pale, and always confused. So, the task of explaining what had taken place on Blackwood Mountain was left to Chris, Sam, and Mike. But, try as they might, they couldn’t reason with the authorities or reporters. More often than not, Chris found the conversation flipping, like a tossed table and, suddenly, he was trying to answer questions riddled in fallacies until he felt like he was admitting to crimes he’d never committed. Eventually, he’d retreated into his apartment, coming up with dozens of plans to prevent ever leaving the dark, ever talking to anyone. His parents paid for him, out of pity. They thought he was a lost cause. So he lay on his bed, alone, reading news off his phone.

_Still no Sign of “Wendigos”_

_With the five-year anniversary of the second Blackwood Mountain Tragedy approaching, the desire to close the case on what happened to the party of eight is rising. The families of Ashley Brown, Emily Davis, and Matthew Taylor beg for a closure that survivors Samantha Giddings, Jessica Riley, Michael Munroe, and Christopher Hartley seem unwilling, or unable, to give. Bob and Melinda Washington who lost their only remaining child, Joshua, in this incident have cut off all contact with the survivors and their families._

“You just aren’t listening!” screamed Chris suddenly, disturbing the silence of his dark bedroom. He placed his phone against his chest. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to breathe. Nobody ever listened. He almost didn’t blame them; he wasn’t sure he’d believe a story about cannibalistic creatures if he were in their shoes. But the frustrating part was… why hadn’t they found evidence? The authorities had investigated the mines, sanatorium, and lodge. They found carnage and some of the creepy things Josh had planted about but no Wendigos. Why? Where had they gone? What was happening? 

“I’m not crazy,” muttered Chris. “Sam and Mike remember. I’m sane.”

_Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz_

Chris’s phone vibrated.

At first, he didn’t budge. The caller was probably one of his parents and he didn’t feel like he could talk now: he had too much on his mind. However… if the caller was Sam or Mike or even Jess… Chris knew he could force himself. Every conversation with them felt precious, made him feel like he had a constant in his life. Maybe Josh had been right about one thing: trauma did bring them together. 

So, Chris flipped his cell phone and checked the caller ID.

_Washington Lodge_

Chris shot upright.

_What?_

That didn’t make sense. Blackwood Mountain was closed. The lodge had been left to decay. Bob Washington wanted nothing to do with it; he only wanted to see the cursed place fall slowly to ruin. The fact that the phones were working at all— they almost never worked even when the lodge had been in use, that had been part of how they’d gotten stuck on the mountain until dawn five years ago— was a miracle. But… who on earth could be calling? And how did they know Chris?

Only one answer seemed logical.

Chris shook as he answered and stammered,

“J-Josh? Josh is that you?”

Only heavy breathing came from the other end. Then the connection crackled. Static filled Chris’s ear.

“Chr-…-ckwood…-ines…-ogether… you… -am…”

“What?” asked Chris. He was on his feet now, pacing about the room, clutching his cell phone. “I-I’m not understanding! Josh?! Are you Josh?!” 

Crackling.

“Please.” 

Click.

That final time, the voice definitely sounded like Josh. His voice was soft, firm, pleading. Strange. 

Chris stood, trying to process. He padded, with bare feet, over to his blinds and pulled them open. The wolf moon was layering bright light onto the neighborhood. In less than one month, February 2nd would arrive. It would be the anniversary of both of Blackwood Mountain’s tragedies. Chris wanted to prepare himself for it; he wanted to curl up in his bed and hibernate until dawn, until that cursed day rolled over. He’d done that for the past four years already. But this phone call… The truth was… Chris didn’t know what to do. 

But someone else might. 

He tapped a few buttons on his phone until a dial tone started up:

_Calling Sam Giddings_

+++++

Sam brushed out her hair. It grazed against both of her shoulders as she pulled the brush through again and again.

She’d just returned home from St. Tekakwitha Hospital. Jess had been admitted once again for an evaluation. She had not been eating properly. Sam had known that, but she hadn’t known how bad the problem was until Mrs. Riley had found Jess collapsed on the floor with a bottle of cognac.

_“It’s coming,” Jess mumbled as Mike and Sam sat at the foot of her bed. “February 2nd.”_

_“Jess, don’t worry about it. Mount Washington is a thousand miles away.” Mike reached forward and pinched the end of her braid. With a small, weak smile he tossed it gently. “It’s been five years. Nothing’s happened the other times.”_

_“But w-what if Hannah and… and Beth and Josh still hate us? What if they’re coming? What if they won’t stop until…”_

_“That won’t happen,” Sam assured her. “Jess, they never hated us. Hannah wasn’t herself. It was the Wendigo inside of her that wanted to hurt us. And Josh was off his medication.”_

_“Well… that’s easy for you to say.” Jess sniffled. “You didn’t do the prank. You and Chris weren’t there. So maybe their ghosts will spare you…”_

_“Knock it off.” Suddenly, Mike was firm. “Just cut it out. There’s no use trying to scare yourself. Nobody is coming to get you. It’s over. Done.”_

_Jess blinked up at Mike, upset by his sudden shift in moods, but not surprised. Mike could shift between caring and curt without warning. He’d always been that way, but his behavior swings had worsened after their trip one year ago._

_“Listen,” said Sam. “I think the four of us should get together soon. Something small, during the day, and in public. We deserve some normalcy. I’ll try to convince Chris. He doesn’t seem to see anyone in person anymore, but he’ll answer my texts. I’m thinking tea at the Orchid Cafe this sunday.”_

_“But…” whispered Jess._

_“Please just do it,” said Sam. “We could all go for something quaint like that. Something real happy.”_

_Mike sighed. “I’m in if Chris agrees. Dude is going to look like an actual wendigo if he spends forever cooped up in the dark.”_

_Sam nodded. “He’ll be there.”_

Now, she was getting ready for bed. A hot shower and a pair of fluffy pajamas always relaxed her. Flopping onto her comforter, she pulled out her phone, ready to dial.

Her ringtone, a long strain of classical music, played.

_Washington Lodge._

Sam’s brows knit. Her stomach tightened up.

_Huh..._

Against her better judgement, she clicked “answer” and was met by static and the sound of someone male clearing his throat. 

“Hel… Hello?”

“Sam… -llo… You… -hris… -odge… -nd…”

The voice spoke between the garbled bursts of static. Yet, as the fragmented words continued, Sam got a grasp on the tone, the texture of the voice. It was all-too familiar, a voice she hadn’t heard in almost five years. 

“Josh?! Josh!” Now Sam’s heart felt like it contained a butterfly, one that was beating its wings frantically. 

“-Oon… -ee you… ove…”

The phone went dead. But, before she’d even had time to process, another call lit her screen fluorescent blue. She jumped at the second round of Chopin’s “Nocturn.”

 _Chris Harley_ , the screen read.

Immediately, she answered.

“Chris!” she cried. “I need to talk to you! Just now—” 

“Did he call you too?” Chris was breathing hard. “Josh! Was it Josh?”

Sam combed her fingered up her forehead and through her hair. Maybe Jess had been right, maybe there was something about to go down on this five-year anniversary. Sam didn’t want to think about ghosts, and certainly not Wendigos, but there was one possibility she could not ignore:

That Joshua Washington was alive. And that he needed help.

“What did he say to you?” asked Sam. “I couldn’t understand.”

“Me neither. The connection was too choppy. But…” Just from his tone, Sam could tell he was thinking the same things she was. “If that was him. What should we do? Call the police? Because, Sam, I’m not going back. I’m just not.” 

Swallowing, Sam tried to think of a response. She understood his feelings too well; the last thing she ever wanted to do was revisit the Washington Lodge. Now, it shouldn’t have been more than ash and rubble. But then… how had they both received calls from that very place?

“I wonder if some of the stuff underground survived,” muttered Sam. “The places beneath the lodge, the ones you, me, and Ashley saw.”

Chris didn’t speak for a moment and Sam cursed herself for bringing the name up. She knew the effect Ashley’s death had had on him. She waited for the silence to end. 

“Maybe they did,” he said at last. His voice was thick. “Maybe, among all the creepy stuff Josh had down there… there was a phone. And he got it to work. Or maybe this is just some dumb prank someone who’s been reading the papers is playing. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.”

His voice dripped with bitterness. 

Sam sighed. “You’re right. We let the police handle it. No matter the case, a trip back to Mount Washington is no good.”

“Fine.”

“So…” Sam tried to sound casual, pleasant. “After we get that taken care of… I was, well… We were— me and Jess and Mike— thinking that we want to get together. Tea. The cafe downtown is stupidly cute. It could be good, you know? And Mike will only go if you will.”

“I don’t know, Sam. I just don’t want to be recognized. I’m just sick of everything.”

“We’ll all meet by your place and get made-over a bit. How’s that sound?”

“Dumb.”

“Exactly. We all need dumb. And I really mean it. I know I sound like he did… but I mean it.”

Again, the line went silent as they remember the video Josh had sent to gather them at the Washington Lodge; he’d been so happy, begging them for dumb and silly— “party like porn stars,” had been his words. 

“All right,” Chris said at last. “All right. We tip off the police. Then we hang out. Then we wait for February 2nd to fuck off.”

Sam smiled. At least he had some of his edge back.

“Sounds perfect.” 


	2. The Butterfly's Tea

Sam and Chris didn’t mention the phone calls to their family or friends. Quietly, they went to the police and explained the strange messages from a burned-down lodge. In the end, they’d both had to turn in their phones for evidence and tracking purposes. Although he’d complied, Chris wasn’t at all happy about the situation. He wanted to curl up and just sleep until the day he could pick up his phone, his lifeblood. But Sam convinced him to act as he normally would. She used the landline at her house to call Mike and Jess. They agreed to meet at Chris’s apartment at 11:00.

“Wait… why don’t either of you have phones?” Mike asked as they sat in the living room, sorting through clothing, hair products, and make-up. 

Chris and Sam had rehearsed this.

“Mine kept shutting down while I was using it,” grumbled Chris. “I sent it to get repaired.”

“And I misplaced mine,” said Sam, on beat. “It’ll turn up.”

“That’s pretty bad luck…” Jess’s voice was soft as ever. Chris could hardly remember the more headstrong Jess he went to high school with. Her personality changes from their experiences five years ago had locked into place. “... Kind of weird that it happened to you both at the same time…”

Although Chris didn’t think she was accusing them of lying, his throat felt tight. 

“I hope you don’t expect  _ me _ to put on makeup,” said Mike, shattering the tension among them. He scooped up a blush compact. “What even is this?”

"It’s  _ blush _ , Mike.” For a moment, Jessica seemed to wake up from her daze. She snatched the compact from his hand with a huff and a smile. 

Mike drew her out more: “Whatever. I look pretty darn handsome naturally. Never had to worry about this junk.”

Jess elbowed him.

Chris watched them both, feeling melancholy creep into his guts. At this point, Jess was Mike’s longest kept girlfriend. In the past, he usually only dated for a year or so and then moved on. But he was approaching his 6th year with Jess. Chris couldn’t tell what was going on in Mike’s head: if he truly loved Jess that much or if his loyalty was driven by mere guilt. Mike had been with Jess the moment she’d been snatched by the Wendigo in the woods, but he hadn’t been able to save her. She’d been dragged underground, her mind shattered by the experience. Chris wondered if Mike simply couldn’t bear the thought of ever leaving Jess on her own again. That was an emotion Chris understood well. He’d felt the same way about Ashley.

Five years ago, as they fought for their lives together, a powerful whisper had spoken in Chris’s head, telling him to never let Ashley go. He’d wanted to grasp her close to his chest and keep her there forever, to ensure she’d be eternally safe. But he’d contented himself with the private, personal promise that he’d make things official between them as soon as they escaped. 

Now that was impossible.

Ashley Brown had never left Blackwood Mountain. 

Chris tried hard not to think about the moment he’d discovered her hat, soaked in blood and discarded on the ground. He’d known real hopelessness then, a kind that stuck with him— a permanent splinter in his heart. Ashley was dead and it was all his fault. Because he had let her go. 

“Man.” Mike knocked on Chris’s skull with the back of his hand. “You look depressing as hell.” 

“Oh…” 

“Chris, come here. You definitely need a haircut.” Sam pat the floor in front of her. She reached for a pair of scissors and a razor. Chris removed his glasses and did as she asked; he knew she was right. In the past, he’d liked messing with his hair and trying new looks. His favorite style had been the fauxhawk he’d worn in college. Chris knew he came across as a nerd and that that would never change; he embraced it and decided to separate himself from the other computer geeks at his school. He tried to be easy-going and have a cool sense of style. But for the past few years… he’d let go. Now his blonde hair was shaggy and shapeless; he’d lost weight. All this had turned him into the loser he’d tried so hard to avoid being. He looked like a nobody. 

Sam snipped at the hair around his neck and said, 

“We looked like hell in those newspaper photos. If we just clean up and change styles just a bit, we probably won’t be recognized. Besides, isn’t this fun?”

Mike pulled a brown bomber jacket over his v-neck tee and shrugged. 

They hung out together in Chris’s living room for another hour until they all looked more put-together than they had in years. Chris certainly felt cleaner with his hair trimmed back to the way it used to be. He’d ditched his hoodie and sweatpants for a pine green shirt, slate jean jacket, and a pair of dark khakis. Sam was right; tidying up  _ had  _ made him feel a little better. The constant exhaustion he felt was still there, but he didn’t feel like a slob anymore. 

He put his glasses back on and glanced towards the girls. Sam wore a red plaid shirt and black overall shorts. Jess had chosen a grey sweater dress. A few strands of clip-in magenta streaks were braided into her blonde hair. 

“I thought I’d be partying more in my twenties,” muttered Jess, using a mirror to apply gloss. “Like going to clubs and things… not being proud of myself just for dressing up and going out in public…”

Mike’s expression shifted, darkened. Something had crossed his mind but, before Chris could wonder much about it, his friend pulled out his car keys.

“Let’s head out,” Mike said. 

  
  


They arrived at the Orchard Cafe right on time. Although Chris’s brain was telling him that they looked just like a group of normal friends, that nobody was looking, that nobody cared… His stomach was saying differently. It knotted as he entered the little shop and again when the waitress took their orders. She was a woman with shiny white teeth that she flashed frequently. She complimented Jess’s hair and brought Sam a sample of two of their drinks to try. And yet… Chris could barely relax. He felt so hot under the bright lighting, so exposed. He dug his nails into the underside of the table as he ordered chamomile, same as Mike. The waitress had mentioned that it was relaxing. 

Later, after their drinks had arrived, Sam tried to strike up a conversation.

“I know Valentine’s Day is still far off, but do you guys have anything planned?” she asked Mike and Jess as she blew on her cinnamon tea and reached for the sugar. 

“Probably something low key.” Mike placed his arm around Jess’s chair. “Movie and wine.”

Jess blushed and used the side of her fork to cut a roll cake in half. The conversation dipped into an uncomfortable silence. Chris blinked at Mike’s hand as it rubbed up against Jess’s shoulder. The two fingers at the end were gone, a tangible reminder of Blackwood Mountain.  _ Damn it, Chris. Why is that all you ever think about… _ said a harsh voice in his skull. 

“Sounds good.” Sam smiled and tucked some hair behind her ear. “I miiight just have a date too.”

“Who?” wondered Chris, brows knitting. 

“Just a guy from my technical writing class. You don’t know him. But, I should introduce you guys at some point. I think you'd like him.”

Once again, a shadowy look passed over Mike’s face. His eyes watched a ripple in his tea. At first, Chris assumed the look was jealousy but… then he realized that he was projecting. Mike’s expression was much more contemplative. The jealousy was coming from within Chris himself. 

He’d never finished college. After he’d recovered from the incident at Washington Lodge, he’d tried as hard as he could to go back, but he’d only lasted a week. Each class felt like a cloudy hell. The sudden taps of pens, the gazes of the other students, the sound of his own name coming from the professors’ lips— they all startled him so much his muscles ached. Half the time, he needed to duck out of class and just sit in the hall and breathe. Eventually, it all became far too much. Overhearing a conversation between two of his classmates had been the last straw:

_ “You know that guy who sits behind you in database administration? He’s one of the people they saved from Mount Washington.” _

_ “Dude. What’s his name? I’m going to look it up.” _

_ “Chris something.” _

_ “Christopher Hartley? I found it. Here.” _

_ They fell silent, looking a phone.  _

_ “This is crazy. He was saying there were monsters and shit up there.” _

_ “What do you think really happened?’ _

_ “It’s probably the simplest answer, you know? The ones who came back murdered the ones who didn’t. And did you hear about the bodies they found? They were FUCKED up. One story I read said these guys all fought a lot. I bet he completely snapped and helped like tortured the others to death.” _

_ Chris felt his brain boil. He slid his back against the wall to sit. “I didn’t…” he muttered.  _

_ “This article says two of the bodies were never found. Joshua Washington and Ashley Brown. They’re probably buried somewhere then… Like in the mines. Man, we could really be in the same class as a psycho. It says here that he tied up Joshua Washington in a fucking shack in the middle of the night.” _

_ Trying to calm down, Chris put his head between his knees. “Josh… he was being..”  _

_ “Wait. Shhhh. He’s sitting right there.” _

Chris could barely remember what followed. He’d gotten up and bolted for the exit, images of Ashley and Josh’s bodies violating his thoughts. He’d never seen their corpses either, but he knew they’d died in the mines. Ashley’s blood-soaked hat was proof of that. And Mike had said he’d seen the Wendigo drag Josh off deep into the tunnels. That was as good as seeing him die. 

_ "Ha! First, the Wendigo, he'll render you immobile. And then he strips the skin off of your entire body, piece by piece. And then he keeps you alive and aware and feasts on your organs, one piece at a time."  _

That’s what the stranger they’d met in the woods had told Chris. So Chris understood that that had been why the Wendigo had taken Josh away. It had attempted to do the same to Jess. But she’d gotten lucky. 

With all this on his mind, Chris simply couldn’t bring himself to finish school. Sam had been the same way at first; she’d taken two years off. Then, after some time to herself, she’d returned in full confidence. Of course, Sam was Chris’s best friend at this point… But he couldn’t help the anger he felt when she mentioned how well school was going. Even Mike was taking things slowly; he'd signed up for online classes. 

_ I still intend to go into politics _ , he’d said. _ I’m not going to let my whole fucking life go down the drain. _

He probably hadn’t intended to make Chris feel worthless. But he had. 

“Are you okay?” Sam tapped his hand.

“Yeah…” 

“Maybe we need to find you something to do for Valentine’s Day.” Mike took a gulp of chamomile and smirked. “Maybe then, you’d stop being such a drag.”

“All right, Mike, don’t be like that,” said Sam. She tapped a nail against her teacup. 

Chris grit his teeth. He loathed when Mike got like this: cocky and prodding. Even before everything, he’d hated it. Now, he could barely bottle up everything he wanted to say, everything he _could_ say. 

_ “Oh yeah?” _ he could shout.  _ “Well at least I wasn’t trampling over people until this all happened. Face it, Mike. You’re only such a good boyfriend now because our friends are dead and Jess is traumatized. You were playing her right up until she got hurt. Maybe I’ve been flaky, but at least I’ve been honest! But hell, you do want to be a politician so maybe all of this has just been preparation.”  _

But Chris knew he could never say that. He forced himself to keep the lid fastened tight. If he said something so cruel, it would shatter Jess completely. She’d probably had suspicions that Mike was still seeing Emily back then. But to have them confirmed now…

Sam’s fingers pressed a little more firmly on his. She understood at least some part of what was going through his mind. Mike, too, must have seen something in Chris’s expression. Finally, he gave words to the grim look that had been passing in and out of his eyes all afternoon.

“We need to move on,” he said. “It’s been five fucking years. Your alone time is up.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Sam. “Listen… I know you’re scared. You’re more scared of being alone than anyone. And that’s why—” 

“Shut up! I’m not scared. I’m irritated. I get it, okay? We can’t forget about everything. Hell, I still get nightmares. But Chris… and Jess… you guys aren’t even the same people anymore. You can’t just do that.”

Jess turtled into the collar of her sweater. Chris felt his pulse in his ears.

“You’re the one who needs to shut up. Like damn it, Mike. You’re so selfish! You don’t want us to get better because you’re worried about _us_. It’s just about you. _Your_ loneliness. _Your_ guilt. You! You! You! You just want to control the people around you. That’s the one thing you share with Josh.”

“You know Josh wasn’t always like that, Chris. You know he was sick.” Sam placed her palms on her knees.

Chris could admit internally that she was right; he’d defended Josh on those grounds before. He understood that Josh’s issues had been so much more complicated than he was making them out to be, but he couldn’t stop talking. He wanted to dig down into Mike. 

“I don’t give a damn anymore. I’m sick of people using me to feel better. Especially when  _ I _ feel like shit all the time. Mike, at least the girl you love survived. So, don’t tell me how I should feel.” 

Mike pursed his lips and stood. 

“Come on,” he said. “We’re all leaving.”

“I’m not getting in the car with you.”

“So, you’ll take a taxi?” Mike raised an eyebrow.

Chris swallowed, hating Mike more than ever. He wanted to bluff. His apartment was nine miles away, a three hour walk. He’d prefer  _ that _ to getting in a cab with a stranger. But…

“It’ll be okay.” Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll drop you off first. I think Mike is right. Let’s try to do this again. As many times as it takes. But we’re not getting anywhere now.”

Finally, Chris sighed and nodded in defeat. He glared as Mike helped Jess up and flicked his fingers towards the door.

Chris’s heart dropped when he saw the cop cars outside his home.

“W-what’s happening?” Jessica, in the passenger seat, sunk down and turned to look back at Chris. Her eyes were glossy, wide. 

“It’s… probably for someone else.”

As subtly as possible, he peered at Sam.

“Probably,” she said. “But, hey, how about I stay with you for a while? Just in case you’re nervous.”

“We’ll all check it out.” Mike parked. His jaw set.

Heart beating a million miles an hour, Chris stepped out. He tried to think of an arsenal of excuses to get Mike and Jess away, but none of them sounded any good. His feet brought him forward, but his mind fogged up. 

One of the officers noticed them approaching.

“Christopher, Samantha,” he said. “We’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

“Why?” demanded Mike.

The officer frowned. “If they haven’t told you, I’m not sure I’m at liberty to say.”

Mike’s head whirled towards Sam and Chris. His eyes were wide with anger. 

“You lied about something,” he hissed.

“We…” Sam swallowed. “Chris, I’m going to tell them.”

Staring down at the pavement, Chris shrugged. He’d rather her make that decision than him; as cowardly as he felt, he'd rather leave everything in her hands.

“Do what you want,” he said.

“Okay.” Sam ran her fingers through the hair by her temple. “Let’s get to the station. Then we’ll talk.” 


	3. The Butterfly's Appetite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short hiatus. I got busy at work and I'm also juggling my other fic. 
> 
> This chapter is short, but I kinda like it tbh. I did go back to the previous two chapters to edit details that I remembered wrong or forgot about. For example, Ashley is a writer, not an artist. I also had Sam put honey in her tea because I totally forgot honey isn't vegan. Whoopsie doodle. But those things don't matter much. I'm just fixing them because I want continuity. The bigger thing I fixed is clearing up how everyone died. The most important thing is that Ashley died in the mines by decapitation and the authorities weren't able to retrieve her body. Matt and Emily were killed outside the mines and their bodies were found. The tricky thing about starting fanfics for me is setting groundwork. During my time off, I got a little bit of a better idea of where I'm going with this so I'm cleaning things up a bit.
> 
> Hope that's okay!

Josh took a seat in the cavern that he’d made his home. He’d started a fire and began to roast some rabbits he’d caught. With a stormy mind, he watched the flames lick upwards towards his spit, toasting the food. 

At times like these, he felt a foul longing in his throat— a craving for a richer kind of meat. But he hadn’t tasted human flesh in some time. He hadn’t come across a person in over a year. 

Because he wasn’t fully Wendigo, Josh could control his hunger. He still felt the painful jabs that the Makkupitew’s spirit punched into his belly, but he could satisfy those pangs with wild animals. Human flesh still beckoned towards him; it tossed a particular fragrance and heat into the air that Josh just loved. And, when he ate it, he felt energy burst through his veins. The sensation was atrociously pleasant, the Wendigo within him had made it so. 

Still, Josh knew the decision was his in the end. For a half-Wendigo like him, fighting the urge to eat humans was like fighting a junk food craving. He knew that. Yet he found himself slipping here and there.

 _Sometimes it’s okay…_ Josh thought to himself. _I can eat people who are already dead._

This thought had crossed his mind long ago, as he consumed the stranger. When he’d devoured every last scrap of skin and sinew, that rationale had formed in the back of his mind. Driven by it, he’d even hiked around, looking for travelers who’d perhaps fallen from some ledge or who had come to these woods to commit suicide. The thought of finding a body made his mouth water. A few times, he was successful. And he brought the corpses back to his lair. 

_No… What will Sam and Chris think? I can’t tell them. I’ll hide it for a while then…_

Josh ground his teeth. So much of his plan relied on easing his friends into things. He knew that they’d panic and get the wrong idea if he laid everything on the table immediately. So, he’d have to hide the ugliest parts, get them to trust him again, and then feed them the truth tablet by tablet. 

The meat was now a deep brown color. Josh didn’t actually need to cook his meat before eating anymore, but he liked to. The aroma still pleased him and, besides that, preparing food properly made him feel more human. 

He kicked dirt onto the flame and snatched the hunks of rabbit off the spit. Ravenously, Josh consumed them. With greedy smacks and slurps and gulps, he ate. 

Meat… nothing made him feel better than eating warm meat. 

Wiping his mouth with the side of his filthy sleeve, Josh leaned back and pulled an object from his pocket— a little booklet. 

_Rituals of Mind and Protection_ , it read. 

Josh had found it in the stranger’s things; it contained more than a few interesting notes about possession and the Wendigos. He knew that if Hill ever found out about this, he’d be angry. In fact, Josh was both surprised and thankful that the doctor had never asked about it before. This version of Dr. Hill was bound tightly to Josh’s brain. In theory, he’d know everything Josh did and yet… somehow, Josh had tucked his knowledge of this book so deep down into his mind that Hill didn’t seem to have detected it. 

Josh had dogeared two sections:

_Protection Ring_

_Mental Bonds_

Both of those sections provided information pivotal to Josh’s plan. He’d read through the “Protection Ring”— 

_The Natives had one way to ward against Wendigos that I have yet to master. By using totems infused with fresh Wendigo blood as well as human blood, you could theoretically create a temporary “safe zone.” However, I find this solution impractical for my specific needs and difficult to maintain without a constant supply of warm Wendigo blood._

Josh ran his tongue across the tips of his pointed teeth. _This was easy enough_ , he thought. The totems he’d used had been the ones left by the stranger five years ago. He’d prayed that his own blood would satisfy both conditions— human and Wendigo. And, to his relief, it had. Once he’d gotten a few rituals down, he’d actually succeeded in creating a circle in the woods that the wendigos growled at but did not approach. After three hours, the power faded. The short time limit of the ring irritated Josh, but the effect was good enough. And the second ritual… _Mental Bonds._

_Here is an interesting ceremony I came across in my studies. It doesn’t seem Cree in origin but, rather, from some more ancient, unknown tribe. It involves sharing the inside of your mind with trusted people. Once the connection is made, those involved may be able to visit each other’s thoughts and dreams. I wonder if this could help me understand how the relationship between a Wendigo and its host works. Though, I am admittedly too afraid to attempt that now._

Of course, Josh couldn’t test this one. But he had faith he could make it work. It needed to work if he was going to… 

Josh sighed and leaned back. His eyes flit around this tiny, hidden cavern in the mines that he’d made his home. It was absolutely perfect, found at the end of an easy-to-miss passageway between a wall and the floor of the mines. The gap was simple for even someone of his size to slip into. The crawl space opened up into a living room-sized chamber at the end. Even the Wendigos had difficulty figuring out where exactly he was when he was down here. So, of course, no human had been able to find him. And Josh liked things that way. He hadn’t _wanted_ to be found. For the longest time, he was ashamed of his appearance and his curse… and afraid he’d be forced to leave this place where his sisters’ spirits surely rested. So, he convinced himself that he was happy in this cavern with things he’d salvaged from the basement beneath the burned lodge: furniture, pots and pans, extra clothes, and even old memories. He kept several old photos and one of Hannah’s favorite dolls with him. 

Again and again, Josh told himself that this was enough. 

But it wasn’t. 

Alone… he felt so damn alone. The only half-wendigo in the world: too messed-up to be with humanity and too sane to stalk among the other monsters. He _wanted_ this and yet… he wanted more than just this. So, when he’d come across an old phone in the lodge basement, one with a choppy dial tone, he’d taken the opportunity. 

_Will they come…_ he wondered. _Please… please please please please please please please please…_

Josh clutched his head; it was beginning to spin and hurt. To get the ache to stop, he bit himself. He sunk his teeth into the flesh between his wrist and thumb and sucked at the blood. Images burned behind his eyes. 

_Hannah sobbing, her face morphing into a demon’s as she wailed. Hills’s office— it spun like Josh was having a blood rush. He saw himself holding handfuls of pill bottles and pharmacy bags; he was dropping them as he walked out but more and more packages appeared in his arms: an unending load. They all smelled bitter and made his stomach churn._

_Finally, one of the little white bags fell and spilled its contents: chunks of meat dripping with water and blood. A yellow eye rolled across the ground. Josh knelt and reached for the bag. Its smell was more tantalizing than the others, more promising. Just as his fingertips were about to graze the bag, a voice shouted._

_“Ew! Josh! What the hell?!”_

_He blinked up at Jessica who stood there showing her straight teeth as she sneered._

_A strange sound came from Josh’s mouth. Jess pressed one hand to her lips. With her free hand, she messed with a tiny, wispy pigtail. She’d worn her hair that way about six years ago…_

_“So gross,” she said. “SO gross. What in the world is wrong with you?”_

_The images shifted. Josh winced as he saw the lodge form._

_He saw himself and Chris, their heads down on the kitchen counter. Hannah was there. Crying. And Beth and Sam… crying. Beside them, Mike was stifling laughter with the crook of his arm. Matt and Emily whispered back and forth, choking on their chuckles. On the couch sat Ashley, hugging her knees and letting out breathy giggles._

_“Stop,” Josh tried to say. “Stop. Can’t you see not everyone is laughing? Guys…”_

_But they couldn’t hear him._

_“Everyone! Guess what I learned!” Jess entered the room, clapping her hands. “The Washington kids are all monsters!”_

_“No…” said Hannah. “I’m not… All I wanted...”_

_Her eyes flit to Mike._

Josh gasped as his fangs sunk a little too far and he felt a hot stab of pain in his hand. He hyperventilated. His blackouts had gotten nastier during these past five years. He’d even wondered if they’d kill him, if he’d go a little too deep and stop breathing all together. The Makkupitew inside of his head only made the situation worse. Josh knew that it could flare his temper if he let his guard down. It could pick at his nerves and all the little strings in his mind, crossing wires. 

He sighed and watched blood drip off his wrist. 

_One more try_ , he thought. _To be together. And… understand._

Matt, Ashley, and Emily were dead. When Josh was thinking clearly, he could almost remember finding Ashley’s body in the mines. Had he buried her? That seemed familiar. It was really a shame. But he’d be more careful now.

“One more time,” he muttered. 


End file.
